


ThorBruce Secret Santa 2018 - ThorBruce One-Shots

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, ThorBruce Secret Santa 2018, kasperidian, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hey kasperidian! This is the first of a few ficbits I'll be making for ya, all centered around ThorBruce!





	1. He's Working On It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellisper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisper/gifts).



> We always see Bruce becoming the Hulk in precarious situations, but we never see his actual struggle with anger issues, which (in my case), can flare up at quite a few things.
> 
> Probably pre-relationship, but awkwardly post-Ragnarok.

Bruce had been tense all day; everyone in the Tower knew it, and it had only gotten worse as the day progressed. But he was making coffee, so it’d be fine, and soon he could get back to his research.

He took the mug from the microwave―it took too long to make coffee with Tony’s fancy machine and he had a self-imposed deadline anyway―and immediately dropped it, the mug’s heat burning his fingertips. It shattered on the floor, making Bruce jump and shield himself.

“Damn it,” he hissed, sucking at one of his burned fingers, “damn it, _damn it._ ”

“I can clean that up for you, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS intoned. “I’ll―”

“No, it’s fine, I got it,” Bruce grumbled, dusting off his hands and bending down to open a cabinet. He was met with a precariously stacked tower of bowls and a single whisk.

“JARVIS, where’s the dustpan? It was just here.”

“Sir had the cleaning supplies removed when he put in the _French Maid Program,_ ” JARVIS said apologetically.

“The _what?_ ”

“My cleaning service, Doctor. If you’ll just move to the island…”

Bruce climbed on top of the island and watched the coffee-covered tiles fall beneath the floor, then replaced by shiny new ones. Muttering something about silver spoons, he left the kitchen without his coffee or a thank you to JARVIS.

 

“Brucie, meeting time. Fury’s pissed.” Tony knocked against the door gently.

“He’s always pissed,” Bruce muttered. “Why should I care?”

“Renewing the Accords. Come on. Hour at the _most._ ”

“I don’t _have_ an hour,” Bruce bent over the microscope and squinted at the slide. “Come on, Tony, can’t you do it without me?”

“No, we can’t,” Tony’s voice grew sharper. “Everybody wants you there.”

With an annoyed grunt, Bruce pushed away from the table, scrawling one more note into the battered journal, and stalked over to the door.

“One hour,” he insisted to Tony, who clapped him on the shoulder and headed up to the meeting room.

 

It, in fact, was _not_ one hour. It had neared three, and Bruce had barely paid attention all meeting, distracted by thoughts of his deadline instead. As the meeting had dragged on, Bruce had grown more and more agitated, tapping his hands and shaking his leg, until _finally_ Fury had declared the meeting adjourned.

Bruce all but ran to the laboratory and sank into the lab chair gratefully, relief flooding him as he picked up his notebook and returned to his studies. Opening JARVIS’s file, he happily typed up the written observations and continued the transcription.

“Uh, Banner?” a voice behind him asked.

“ _Yes,_ Thor?” he swung around in his chair, exasperated, annoyance crawling up him again. Thor opened his mouth, but was cut off by a low groan from the building’s foundation. The lights flickered above them, then died, along with JARVIS’s files and all his electronic transcriptions.

Something snapped within him, and the anger rose up in him again. Bruce stared at the lights, unable to believe that _all_ of his transcripts had been lost.

“No, no, no,” Bruce muttered, quickly turning to snarls, “are you _kidding_ me, _come on!_ ”

The slowly simmering anger turned to a full boil, and it seeped into his brain. His blood thrummed in his veins, pushing at him, trying to make him do _something, anything._

It was a very familiar sensation, and Bruce dug his nails into the palms of his hand, trying to slow down the crash of emotions.

Unfortunately, Bruce’s mind was not helpful, and he whipped around and stomped past Thor.

Thor was clearly alarmed, and Bruce nearly pushed him aside in his rush to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To Tony,” Bruce growled, “I’m going to go see why this _bullshit_ building just _ruined my research,_ ” he punctuated this with a particularly loud throwing open of the door. Thor could see a dozen situations playing out while Bruce was storming up the hall, and none of them were good, so he rushed up to Bruce.

“Banner,” Thor skidded in front of him, his hands up.

“Don’t _call_ me that,” Bruce shot a furious glance at him, his hands curled up into fists at his side. “ _What_ do you want?”

“Bruce,” Thor said steadily, then placed his hands very lightly on Bruce’s shoulders and didn’t answer the question. “I want you to calm down.”

“I don’t _want_ to calm down,” Bruce snapped, “I want to tell Tony what I think of this fucking building, all right?”

“No, you don’t,” Thor said placidly, “you _know_ that won’t work out.”

“I―I don’t―” Bruce caught himself, and gritted his teeth tightly. An internal struggle seemed to wrestle inside his mind.

“You’re right,” he finally said, not looking at him, in a pained voice.

Thor could see the anger seeping out of him, his shoulders relaxing at his touch, and considered this a success. Thor took a slow breath and very slowly, Thor gathered Bruce into a loose hug.

Normally, Thor wouldn’t have hugged someone as angry as Bruce had been, but he knew Bruce preferred physical touch than just verbal comfort to calm down, and that’d been proved once or twice already.

“Hey, the sun’s going down,” he hummed, “sun’s getting low.”

The anger sank from Bruce, like the tide receding, and Bruce breathed. It died away as quickly as it had come, and the cool environment came back to him.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said gruffly. “I’m just―my mind―it’s―” he stuttered for a while, trying to gather his thoughts. He seemed embarrassed, so Thor made it a point to not look directly at him, and instead spoke into his hair.

“As long as it doesn’t rule you, you’re allowed to be angry, Bruce. You lost your research. It’s upsetting.”

Bruce affirmed this with a small sigh, and leaned more into Thor’s embrace. The two stood like that for a while, swaying back and forth.

“I’m working on it.”


	2. Bruce Banner, New Avenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '20s fashion was snappy, all right? How could I resist writing the era?

The jazz music roared as Bruce surveyed the bar, sipping his water. The Foxtrot Inn was truly the symbol of the ‘20s: blaring music, flamboyant and smart dress alike, and, of course, raging alcoholics.

Tony was off partying, and occasionally Bruce would catch a glimpse of him from time to time, surrounded by fans and lovers, and the inventor would yell a drunken hello to him. But Bruce was far from interested in the pursuit of alcohol―he hadn’t even thought of attending the bar scene that night if it weren’t for his friend and his clearance.

That wasn’t to say Bruce _didn’t_ have clearance to enter the Inn―he was widely known as being Avengers-oriented, but Fury didn’t quite trust him enough without an escort. Because _Tony_ was a perfect escort.

Bruce glanced back towards the doorman, who was scanning over a long line of people, and choked on his water. Coughing into his elbow with watery eyes, Bruce looked back to make sure he hadn’t been seeing things.

He was right. Thor was here.

 _Thor,_ the mythical bearer of lightning, _so mysterious_ nobody even knew his real name. Maybe Thor _was_ his real name, maybe he truly was the Norse god of thunder. Those muscles looked real enough to be, anyway.

Thor was coming towards him, and Bruce quickly tried to look presentable, even if he would only be a subject of a passing glance. He turned back to his water and contemplated it, trying to keep his face from reddening too harshly.

Thor sat down next to him.

“Doctor Banner, am I right?” Thor asked, in the strange, lilting accent that all of the Avengers-oriented had fawned over.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Uh, um, y-yeah, that’s me,” he said, turning to look at Thor’s very, _very_ blue eyes. “Um, do you want something, or…?” he gestured to the drink counter, where the barmaid kept glancing back at Thor while pouring beers.

“How about a drink?” Thor grinned, eyes twinkling. His eyes _twinkled,_ that’s how blue they were.

“Maybe not,” Bruce said hastily, “I’m… kind of a mean drunk.”

Thor’s friendly expression fell slightly, and he leaned close, speaking quietly. “You don’t have to hide the Hulk from me, Doctor.”

Bruce reeled back. “You―you _know_ about that?” he hissed. Bruce looked around frantically, looking for listening ears. “Who told you? You have to be at least a Level Eight to―”

“Fury told me,” Thor ended Bruce’s sputtering. He placed a calming hand on Bruce’s own, and made steady eye contact. “He wants us to work together.”

“I’m not even an _Avenger,_ ” Bruce insisted, his mind trying to piece together the new developments. Why would Fury think they would work together? A god and a monster? “Is Fury… did he―he sent you to recruit me? Is that why you came here?”

“No,” Thor said quickly, then seemed to regret it. His face flushed, and Thor looked down and seemed to realize his hand was still on Bruce’s, which did nothing to alleviate his blush. He quickly snatched his hand away, blushing further. “Well, that’s what Fury thinks, anyway―I just, um, came to find you.”

“To…?” asked Bruce blankly. Thor was acting bizarrely, nothing like the suave and confident figure he usually seemed to be in the other Avengers’ company.

“To, um, tell you I really like, uh, your work!” Thor smiled nervously.

“Oh, thank you!” Bruce smiled back. “I, uh, like yours, too,” he swept a hand up and down, then frowned, changing the subject. “What _does_ Fury expect from us?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Thor shrugged, then reassured, seeing Bruce’s expression, “we don’t have to worry about that right now.”

“All right, then what _do_ you want to talk about?” Bruce leaned back and folded his arms.

“Anything besides work!” Thor said eagerly, seeming relieved they were off the subject.

“What do you want to know?” Bruce laughed lightly, and, deciding to take a risk, winked at him. “I’m an open book.”

 

The conversation continued late into the night as partygoers whirled and drinks were downed around them, and eventually Thor and Bruce retired to the upper floor balcony, which was relatively clear of drunken Avengers or oriented. Bruce rested his arms on the railing and looked down at the New York scene below, face illuminated by the city lights. Thor followed suit.

“It’s beautiful,” Thor’s eyes drifted over the cityscape, taking in the sights. “Before I came here, I had never known such Midgardian wonder. It almost matches Asgard.”

“Midgardian?” Bruce looked over at him.

“Earth,” Thor smiled. “Humans have just as an eye for beauty as Asgardians do.”

“So the rumors are true,” Bruce treaded carefully, “you’re really… not from around here?”

“You can say alien, you know,” Thor grinned.

“I’d prefer to call you mine,” said Bruce, before he could stop himself. Before he could apologize, or call it a slip of the tongue, or _worse,_ run, Thor chuckled gently.

“Doctor Banner, you’ve ruined my plan,” Thor mock-glared at him, “I was going to ask _you,_ and now you’ve gone and done it!”

Bruce sidled up to him, and Thor brushed a thumb over his face. “Can I make it up to you?”

Their faces were so close, their noses could almost touch, and Thor smiled. “You can indeed.”

Bruce and Thor closed the gap between them, and in the moment they kissed, the world seems to expand around them, the city shaping itself to surround the two. The night stars twinkled around them, and Bruce wondered dimly, affection-drunk, if one of them was Asgard.

They broke apart, and there was a pause.

“I think,” Bruce said, “you can accept this as my official application to the Avengers.”

Thor kissed him again in response.


	3. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I figured at least one other character should be included, even if it is the fan-favorite lol.

“Did you hear that?” Thor whipped around.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s only the wind, Thor,” Bruce soothed, brushing a hand through his hair.

They returned their attention to the TV, shifting on the couch, and Loki scoffed from an adjacent armchair.

“You’ve fought _Hela_ and you’re scared of―what is this movie called again?”

“Return of the Living Dead,” Bruce filled in. Loki rolled his eyes, although he didn’t take his eyes away from the flickering black-and-white screen. The wind whistled outside and slammed against the windowsill, making him jump.

“This is pathetic,” he scowled, although Bruce could see that goosebumps peppered his crossed arms. He curled up tighter in the armchair.

“Oh, no, look behind you, young maiden!” Thor was on the edge of his seat, eyes wide. “One of the monsters has followed you to your place of refuge!”

The girl on the screen emitted a hair-raising shriek as a lumbering zombie bit into her neck. Thor gasped loudly as she staggered, fell, and became one of the pack.

“But what of her partner? He doesn’t know of her tragedy!” Thor was close to shaking Bruce. Loki muffled his laughter. Thor shot a glare at him, but resumed watching, the TV’s reflection clear in his eyes.

Bruce looked down to find that the popcorn bowl was empty, and leaned over to peck Thor on the cheek.

“Going to get more popcorn, will you be alright?” Bruce asked softly.

“Of course,” Thor shifted on the cushion, embarrassed. “The living dead are no match for me,” he picked up Mjolnir and tossed it in the air for show, or possibly to reassure himself. Bruce smiled.

“I’ll come with you,” Loki volunteered, and Bruce picked up the bowl, along with an empty carton of apple juice, which had been Thor’s idea.

His eyes had just adjusted to the bright lights of the kitchen when Loki slid in front of him, expression stony. The kitchen door clicked shut.

“So…” Bruce broke the silence, trailing off. Loki looked even more unimpressed, if that was possible.

“My brother,” Loki cleared his throat, “cares about you.”

“Well, we are dating,” said Bruce, bemusedly. “That, uh, tends to happen in relationships.”

“I want to make sure you won’t break his heart,” Loki glared, “that you aren’t―using him. For fame. Fortune.”

“Well, I can assure you, I _don’t_ need to be in the news more,” Bruce said, plunking down the popcorn bowl and grabbing a kernel packet. “And my best friend is a millionaire―no, _billionaire,_ ” he corrected himself, and muttered, “Tony’d kick my ass if I got it wrong.”

Loki was silent, and Bruce felt he’d been a bit dismissive. He sighed, set the microwave timer, and turned around. “You know what I love about Thor?”

Loki’s composure was mostly unbroken, but Bruce could see a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, which he took for encouragement.

“He’s… sweet,” Bruce laughed lightly to himself―this was an understatement. “No matter what, he’s always looking for the light in things. In me,” he paused.

“Thor might not _get_ the science I talk about, or even be able to understand it versus Asgard science or physics, but he doesn’t mind listening to it. Not many people really do that,” Bruce looked down, “and even fewer people appreciate _all_ of who I am like he does.”

Bruce looked up to see Loki’s expression, which had softened considerably.

“I love Thor for who he is,” Bruce finished, leaning on the countertop. “Fame and fortune don’t matter to me, as long as we’re together.”

Loki allowed himself a small smile. “Good. That’s… what I wanted to hear.”

“Do I have the Loki seal of approval?” Bruce raised his eyebrows. Loki rolled his eyes.

“Yes, fine. The ‘Loki seal of approval’ has been administered,” he quoted with his fingers. “Now you’d better rescue that popcorn before it starts a fire,” Loki added with a smirk.

Bruce turned to look behind him; smoke was pouring out of the microwave.

“Has that been going on the _entire time I’ve been talking?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was short, sorry dude!! i meant to write WAY more but (of course) everything had to happen right now, but you'll get one final ficbit after this one!


	4. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist writing New Year's--I was looking forward to it.

“Where are you taking me?” Bruce asked, being pulled along. Thor kept jogging along, face flushed and blonde hair flying. Bruce was trying to keep up the pace, but Thor, ever the athlete, was nearing dragging him along at this point.

“Somewhere,” Thor said rather evasively, and took a sharp turn, skidding into a hallway Bruce didn’t even know existed. The Avengers’ building interior rushed by Bruce until it all melded into one big blur, characterized only by the slots for doors or windows. Bruce didn’t know what was so urgent that he needed to see it _right now_ , but he was a bit disappointed. He’d wanted to spend the night with Thor for New Year’s Eve with the other Avengers, counting down to the NYC ball drop on a crowded couch, but Thor, it seemed, had other plans.

“Ah, here we are,” Thor nodded, relieved, and turned to Bruce, who was a little winded. He looked around; there was nothing to show for this wing of the building besides a stairwell and a desolate hallway lit blue.

“And… what’s here that you want to show me?” Bruce lifted his eyebrows. Thor took his hand again, evidently done with waiting for Bruce to recover from the run.

“Not here, silly. Up there,” and with that, Thor confidently strode up the stairs, then slowed his pace a little to match Bruce’s, who was gripping the railing. Bruce, slightly embarrassed, pushed himself to go faster.

After a few short flights, they arrived at a heavy-looking door, outfitted with a bolt and a keypad, and Thor gently covered Bruce’s eyes.

“Trust me,” he murmured, and after typing in the building key, pulled the door open, guiding Bruce out onto the gravelly ground, which led him to deduce it was the roof. Bruce became even more confused. What on Earth could possibly be on the roof to show him?

“Ta-da!” Thor exclaimed, uncovering Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce gasped in wonder―the starry night sky, sparkling over the view of bustling New York City, enveloped the scene in coziness. Several colorful woven blankets, looking of Asgardian origin, layered the ground, while flickering white tea lights were scattered around them, illuminating the blankets’ designs with soft yellow light. On top of the blankets were several pillows and covered dishes, two mugs and a large steaming thermos, and…

“Thor, are these _rose petals?_ ” Bruce, covering a giggle, bent down to touch the soft red fronds, and looked back at his boyfriend, who was standing behind him, shuffling his feet. “Oh, hey…”

Bruce crossed back to Thor and picked up his hands in his own, reassuring him with a gentle smile. “I _love_ it.”

“The rose petals were Clint’s idea,” Thor muttered, looking nervous, “but if you like them…” a hopeful spark lit up his eyes. Bruce leaned up and pecked him on the nose.

“Thor. Don’t worry about it. It’s perfect.”

“Good,” said Thor, obviously relieved, “now… what time is it?”

Bruce instinctively looked at his wrist, then frowned once he realized he’d left his watch back at the lab. “Um…?”

A loud _crack_ made him gasp and stumble back towards Thor, but once he chuckled and tilted Bruce’s head towards the sky, he understood.

“Time for fireworks,” Thor grinned, and led him over by the blankets, patting them down. Bruce sank into the warm grasp of Thor and his pillows, while Thor seemed to be searching for something. “Come on…”

“Hmm?”

Thor brought out the starter phone Tony had given him for Christmas (crafted lovingly with Stark technology, of course), and peered at it, tapping buttons. “Tony said if I installed an app I could get the countdown up,” he squinted, “I think―aha!”

Thor made sure Bruce was bundled up in blankets accordingly and held the phone in front of them, where they huddled around it.

“Two minutes left,” Bruce murmured.

“Two minutes left for me to pour these out,” Thor groused, but Bruce could see a smile quirking up. He poured the steaming drink from the thermos into two mugs, handing one to Bruce carefully. Bruce promptly curled his hands around the mug and took a sip―hot chocolate―and allowed the heat to seep into him as protection against the December weather.

Thor placed his own mug by his side and took up the phone again.

“One minute,” Thor looked at him. “Nervous for next year?”

“Not as long as I’m with you,” Bruce intertwined their fingers, and Thor laughed.

“That is _so_ cheesy, Banner,” he punctuated the sentence with a kiss on top of Bruce’s curls, “you’d almost think you like me or something.”

The people onscreen had started chanting.

“Three!”

“Almost,” Bruce slung his arms on Thor’s shoulder, drawing him closer. “You know―”

“Two!”

“I think I like you―” Bruce’s voice lowered; their faces were inches apart.

“One!”

“A little more than that,” he finished with a whisper, and their lips met softly, foreheads touching with Thor’s hand still tangled in his hair. Before them, the sky exploded in a lightshow; illuminating the two with green and blue lights, celebrating the end of their first year, and, more importantly, the start of a year of love anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year's, kasperidian--i hope you have a wonderful 2019 ❤️


End file.
